Steamboat Springs New Start Pt 01

All characters in this story are over 18 years old.

This story may be viewed as a coming-of-age story for Jim Richardson. Jim is a 20 plus something male who comes from a caustic family upbringing. His dad was a terrible father figure and a worse husband figure. This caused Jim grow without any kind of understanding of women and their needs in a meaningful relationship. His outlook on life prevented him from seeing what role his mother played in his upbringing. As a result, Jim is a frustrated young man who chooses to run away from his problems and try to find a new beginning in the small town of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Follow along as Jim learns about himself and developing relationships with the women he meets.

Part One, The Journey Starts

Steamboat Springs was my first home away from home. Like most young men out of high school and skipping college, I didn't have much of a plan for what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I just knew I wanted to get away from Denver and live someplace else. I was tired of the parents always getting in my business and the big city rat race. After a couple of years of this shit I started web searches on small towns near ski areas and Steamboat Springs kept coming up in the top ten results and usually in the top three. Crested Butte and Telluride were also interesting options. Oh, and Big Sky, Montana.

I had skied at Steamboat several times and I knew it was a great mountain. The champagne powder snow from the bitter arctic temperatures was the fluffiest snow on earth. There were no crowds like Winter Park or Breckenridge, but the terrain was every bit as good. The town had a nice western vibe that was honest and laid back. There were always pluses and minuses for each ski area and town I looked at. Steamboat just seemed to be at the top of the list whenever I rated places to live. I finally made the decision to move to Steamboat Springs and start my own life. It was time to get away from mom and dad.

I worked hard and saved as much money as I could over six months. I collected items I thought I might need like camping equipment and hand tools. After amassing enough money and tools to last me a couple of months, I announced that I was leaving home and moving to Steamboat Springs. Mom was worried about me leaving home. Shit, I wasn't a ten-year-old. I had a job in Denver, for Christ's sake. I assured her it wouldn't be that hard and I was only going to be 4 hours away. Dad was less than interested in my decision. He told me to stay out of trouble. I could always come home if my room didn't get repurposed. After those farewells it was a lot easier to live with my decision.

Dad was never involved with me. Never did sports, never went fishing, never went to parent-teacher conferences, hell, never even talked to me about much of anything. He did complain about and argue with mom a lot. According to dad, mom was unmotivated and never did anything. He had to provide for the family. Dad rubbed off on me. I didn't have much admiration for mom either. She was just there harping on me. So, home life left me with an empty feeling. The only thing dad helped me with was co-signing for my old pickup truck. That was so he wouldn't have to provide me with transportation.

So, my die was cast. I was going to leave my useless, dead-end life in Denver and move someplace else. Time to live my own life, for me, free from the burden and inconvenience of living with mom and dad. There was nothing to tie me down in the Denver area. I was free and ready to go.

I packed my truck with everything I owned and made ready to leave. I had one more night at home and then I was gone. I got introspective and looked back on my life. Nothing special stood out to me. I know I felt more affection with mom than I did with dad, but it wasn't that much more. Maybe that was because dad played the unemotional role and that men weren't supposed to be wrapped up in that nonsense. Men had to be able to make decisions without being influenced by having concern for how other people felt. Maybe that's where I was at. That's kind of how I felt. I felt a little empty this last night. But not that empty.

Fran came over after everyone went to bed. She snuck in the house, got naked and climbed into bed with me. I was already naked and waiting for her. Her body was warm and she was wet between the legs. I was hard and ready for her. She wrapped her lips around my dick and began bobbing her head up and down, trying to suck my dick inside out. My hands were on her head guiding it up and down. Just as I was getting ready to cum, she stopped the blow job and climbed on top of me. Straddling me cowgirl style, she grabbed my penis and sat down on it. I slid all the way into her warm moist pussy and began to thrust up into her. Her tits bounced up and down and jiggled on her chest. Her hair fell in my face, tickling my nose and lips. She came down as I thrust up. Over and over again. I could feel my orgasm growing in my dick.

Then the God damned alarm went off. Not even 4am. Same fucking dream, over and over. I never got to cum. I was soaked with sweat and had a raging hard on. I was frustrated. I was pissed. I hadn't seen Fran for a couple of years. We broke up because she went to college and had no use for a dead beat like me. Screw her. I wasn't going to go to college. I had a better plan for my life and it didn't include four more years of formal education. Christ, I barely made it out of high school. What a waste of time. I'd never survive college. What a waste of money. I had to move on. I wish the "Fran" dream would move on and leave me alone.

So, I was up early and got ready to leave. I was quiet as a mouse and thought I would get out the door unnoticed. Mom was waiting in the kitchen with a sack lunch and a thermos of coffee. I didn't want her to be there. It touched my heart and I felt a little pang of sadness as she gave me a hug goodbye. I tried to turn away, but mom held me tight and gave me a kiss on the cheek. At least dad hadn't gotten up. That would have really been fucked up. I just wanted to go and be done with all this shit.

"Be safe. Find happiness."

Those were the last spoken words I heard in that house.

It was still dark outside and only a few other houses had any lights showing in the windows. I got into the truck, closed the door and started the engine. I only heard the sound of the engine as I pulled away from the curb. No one was on the sidewalk watching me leave. There were no waves from friends or family. It was just me, a quiet drive down a deserted street, my world no bigger than the pavement illuminated by my headlights. I was a nobody, leaving nowhere. I felt empty and a little sad. This wasn't the last time that I would leave a place after many years with my world reduced to a spot of pavement sliding through the illumination of my head lights. It was always the same, empty feeling. It never got any easier.

I turned on the radio and tuned to KOMA-AM out of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. They were the only all-night rock and roll station you could pick up when driving from Denver to Steamboat Springs at night. The signal drifted in and out as I pulled onto I-70 and headed west. There were a few tractor trailers queuing up on Floyd Hill as I hit the first big climb through the foothills. There were even fewer cars. So, my adventure started at 45 mph while trying to get around a City Market trailer headed for God knows where.

I had to appreciate the thermos of hot coffee mom packed for me. The smell woke me up when I removed the stopper. Steam from the cup fogged up the windshield when I set it on the dash. The bitter black coffee went down hot and after a few minutes, the caffeine began to wake me up. I checked the sack lunch and mom had put in nearly half a pack of pink sugar wafer cookies. My favorites. So, I started putting in miles in the dark, drinking bitter coffee and eating my favorite cookie snack.

I-70 finally dropped down into Clear Creek Canyon. The radio started to lose KOMA and soon, I just had static. I couldn't even get KOA-AM so I turned off the radio and listened to the sounds of the miles rolling by. I continued on, headed for Idaho Springs. The skies were getting a little lighter as sunrise was approaching. I was about an hour and a half into my journey and only making slow progress. But I guess there wasn't a big rush to get down the road. I had no place to stay in Steamboat Springs and no job either. So, it really didn't matter when I got there. Hell, this J.B. Hunt driver in front of me might get to Steamboat just a minute or two sooner than me.

I looked back on the life I lived in Denver. Hanging out with the same people in the neighborhood. Working a job as a delivery driver for Chicken on the Run fast food café. It really wasn't much of a life looking back on it. Everyone in the gang was in the same dead-end position. They thought I was the lucky one heading out on the road for a new shot at life. Maybe so, but it sure was lonely out on I-70, as the sun light was hitting the bottoms of clouds high up in the sky over the mountain peaks.

There were some lights in the house windows of Idaho Springs. More people were waking up for another day in Colorado. And there were more cars getting on the highway. I was able to pass J.B. Hunt to find an open stretch of road. But I soon caught up with a string of miners headed for the Henderson Mine a few miles ahead. They wore their hard hats and drank coffee out on the dark road. And there were more tractor trailers and gasoline tankers. I decided not to weave in and out of traffic. I just picked a spot in the queue and sat there. There was no going down this road to nowhere, fast, today.

The turn off to Fall River went by. I flashed back to the weekends when the gang would get the skis and coolers of beer and drive up to St. Mary's Glacier for some hike up, ski down exercise. God, we had fun doing that. Skiing in the middle of summer with 10 or 15 other hard-core skiers from the Front Range. We did that nonsense for years. Those were good times.

The sun was getting close to coming up and dawn was only minutes away at Dumont. The pink lighting on the surrounding mountains was quickly turning gold as the new day was starting. I finally got to the junction of I-70 and US 40. Going left would take me over Loveland Pass and on to Grand Junction. Going right would take me to US 40 over Berthoud Pass and on to Steamboat Springs. I stayed to the right and headed to the town of Empire. My plan was to stop at the Hard Rock Café for breakfast.

When I reached the Hard Rock, I found a parking spot on the north shoulder of US 40 behind a couple of semis that had the same idea as me. There were a couple of other cars parked on the south shoulder in front of the café. It was a dash to cross the highway and not get hit by traffic. In spite of the early hour, there was a good breakfast crowd inside. The waitress showed me to a table on the east wall.

"Coffee, Hun?"

"Yes, please." I put my thermos on the table, took off my coat and sat down.

The waitress was really sexy. She wore tight black yoga pants that hugged her butt and showed the camel toe between her legs. Her panty lines were really obvious because, you could faintly see the panties through the weave of her tight yoga pants. You could see every curve below her waist. She had a short shirt tied just below her tits baring her midriff from her navel to just below her tits. She had on a black lace bra that pushed her tits up and made deep cleavage you would just love to push your face into. Her hair was done and she was all made up. She was nice to stare at, which most everyone was doing. I bet she was popular with the truckers.

Judging from the looks of the people, there was a mix of truck drivers, miners, locals and the odd traveler like myself. Most kept to themselves in quiet conversation. Some were studying maps and filling in log books. Others just stared down into the middle of their coffee cup and watched the steam rise up. I was going to be one of those who just stared at the cup and listened to the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen as the cook churned out the breakfast orders.

I didn't even look at the menu. I figured these cafes all had the same choices. Why read the menu when the waitress could figure it out. I would order my old standby. The waitress returned with my coffee. She set down the cup and picked up my thermos.

"What'll it be, Hun?" She asked. Her tit was resting on my shoulder and I had to look over her bust and cleavage to give her my order. She didn't even have a pad and pencil to write anything down. Some people can be experts at their jobs and keep everything in their minds. No need for a pad. Besides, if the order was wrong, who was going to complain.

"Two eggs scrambled, hash browns, three slices of bacon and wheat toast." That was my standard on the road breakfast. I'm sure it was one of the cafés too.

"Comin' right up, Hun." And she was gone.

I returned to my coffee. I wondered where I was going. A lot of these people were going to work. Some to Henderson to mine underground. Some to the highway, to go somewhere else far away. The sheriff just driving around looking for some slob to ruin his day with a ticket. And me, I was just running away. Not knowing what from or where to I was running.

Breakfast and the check showed up along with a thermos full of fresh, black coffee. I ate in silence. Some of the earlier patrons left. They all got into cars and went west. Probably shift change at the mine. A couple more truckers came in. The waitress was really nice to them, freely giving out hugs. I guess she was just lookin' after the over the road gang. They were their own separate community out here on the road.

I finished breakfast, settled up the tab and headed for the door. The waitress was coming the other direction and told me:

"You be safe out there, Hun. I want to see you again, when you come back through."

I felt like a lone traveler, or maybe a lone sheep being wary of the pitfalls out there. Her comment just added to my anxiety. I got into the truck, started the engine and headed west behind the miners. I was headed for my own destination. As was usual, we eventually caught up with another semi. The trailer said C.R. England and it had a really nice logo on the back door. I spent the next half hour memorizing it. I would dice with him to the summit of Berthoud Pass and down the other side.

The sun was up now and it was getting warmer. Hell, it must have been 35 degrees by now. The mountain peaks were bathed in bright sunlight. The top halves of the mountains were treeless and had a stark contrast to the blue sky. The scenery was beautiful. It was nothing like the crowded, dirty neighborhoods of Denver. You could be free up here. At least, until the money ran out. Then you were screwed.

I noticed the other cars around me. Some I had seen miles back. Some were from Empire. We were all traveling together, moving in the same direction. We were strangers, but maybe we were all looking for the same thing out there, somewhere down the road.

The road we were on, US 40, wound around through the contours at the bottom of West Clear Creek Canyon. We were climbing through old growth forest. No passing zones on this section of road. We were all in this together behind that semi. When the road reached Berthoud Falls, the gradient changed. Most of the cars turned off to go to Henderson Mine. The rest of us made a big U-turn and began climbing up the side of the canyon wall. The semis slowed down, but thankfully there were passing zones. The cars got past the truckers and we continued up the grades to the top of Berthoud Pass.

At the top of the pass was a ski area, Berthoud Pass Ski Area. There was an old log style lodge. It was not skiing season, but the lodge was still open, hosting the tourists and travelers who needed a place to rest for a minute and enjoy the mountain views from the top of the Continental Divide. I pulled into the parking lot, parked the truck and headed in to the lodge. There was a gift shop, a snack bar, a tiny museum and restrooms. I took advantage of the restroom and went into the snack bar to get a salted nut roll. Hardly anyone was there. The girl at the register greeted me and made small talk.

She was a cutie and wore really tight blue jeans. She had a great figure. Her tight sweater showed off her big tits. She had a nice face too. The complete package. The thin mountain air must do something to women to make them attractive and sexy. It was hard not to stare. It would have been nice to stay and talk.

She was from Empire and this was her only job opportunity. She wanted more, someplace else. She asked where I was from and where I was going.

"I'm from Denver, and I don't know where I'm going. Next stop is Steamboat Springs, but I don't know where I will go from there."

She looked really envious and said she wished she could hitch a ride along with me. My adventure sounded fun to her. She probably would have got into the truck and gone with me if I offered a seat. This was all pretty scary to me. At least I would have had a warm, sexy body to share the trip with.

I took my snack out to the truck and got back on the road right in front of the C.R. England semi. I had to listen to his engine brake on the descent until I got out of reach and couldn't hear it anymore. I had the window down and the cool mountain air blew in on my face. The Continental Divide and Front Range stretched away to the north. The green trees reached timberline, then it was rugged rock peaks stretching up to touch the sky. It was beautiful. I wondered if this is what the trappers, hunters, gold miners and settlers felt when they first came in to this part of the mountains.

As I drove down the pass my mind wandered to travels in the years gone by. What would it be like to have the girl from Empire with me. She did look good to me at the lodge. It reminded me of a trip with Fran. Out on the road, time was spent fondling each other. She never hesitated to undo my pants and go down on me as I drove. Her head would bob up and down on my dick as I rubbed all over her tits. If I wasn't getting a blowjob, she would pull down her pants and let me get her off rubbing her clit and pussy. If we stopped somewhere for a break, we would be all over each other making love. It was just sex. No relationship to speak of, we both just wanted sex. What would it be like with the lodge girl?

A road sign showed I had reached Winter Park Ski Area. It was to my left. As I approached Fraser Valley the grade flattened out and the road got straighter again. The road sign said Hideaway Park, and the Idlewild Ski area was to the right. A lot of skiing in this part of the valley. A couple of miles further, I left the mountain canyon and entered Fraser Valley proper.

The mountain slopes were now miles away on all sides and I was in the middle of flat, grass covered meadows that ran out to the left and right to dense pine forests. There were cows in the meadows grazing on the thick grasses. There weren't many houses or outward signs that people lived here. I entered Fraser, "The Ice Box of the Nation". If you want to live someplace cold and inhospitable, sounds like Fraser is the place to be.

The next wide spot along this high mountain valley was Granby. It looked like most people in this mountain valley either lived in Granby, or came to Granby to get their provisions. There was one grocery store, a school, a gas station and six bars. My guess was, not much happened around Granby, so everyone came to Granby to make something happen. If you lived in the Fraser Valley, you were a rancher, a logger or a worker at a ski area. There wasn't anything else going on. Fraser valley didn't appeal to me. I stopped for gas, bought a couple of bottles of water, then kept on heading west.